Fault
by SGFlutegirl
Summary: Clint makes a discovery that leads to his being overwhelmed by guilt for things that he didn't do, and past mistakes that he could no longer do anything about.


**Written for the 'past mistakes' prompt on my Clint Barton/Hawkeye table at ****avengers_tables**, located at my LJ.

**This is my first Avenger's fic. It was a long time in coming, as my muse had escaped to Hawaii and didn't bring me along. Takes place in the MCU, after the movie.**

**Beta'd by the wonderful ****shinysylver**.

**Don't own anything; just having fun.**

* * *

Fault

by: Flute

Clint made his way through the vents that ran through SHIELD HQ. He turned a corner and came upon a dead end. He would have turned around, but when he looked down, all thoughts fled him. All that mattered to him in that moment was the man lying in the bed in the room below him. He wasn't sure what to think, especially since the man in the bed was supposed to be dead.

Natasha had been the one to tell him. She and Clint had gone to HQ after she'd noticed him limping. Before they had gotten to medical, she had pulled him aside, and told him that Coulson had died after confronting Loki. Clint didn't remember much after that, just the feeling that he had lost the closest thing he'd had to family since he had lost his brother. When he'd woken again, nearly sixteen hours later, he'd snuck out of medical and retreated to his quarters.

See, Clint was a complicated man. Although, most people who only knew him in passing might disagree with that statement. They didn't see the man who cared for others, more than himself; the man who was overwhelmed by guilt for things that he didn't do, and past mistakes that he could no longer do anything about. They only saw a man who followed orders, no matter who gave them. They would look at his blank expression and believe that he didn't care about anything or anyone.

Clint saw the looks, and knew what they meant, but he couldn't bring himself to care. It was those looks he was getting from the agents he passed in the hallways that caused him to retreat into the vents.

**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

"_It wasn't your fault. You had no idea she would move before you took the shot."_

"_I should have… If I'd just waited another second… fuck!"_

"_No, Clint, you couldn't have, and you know it."_

"_Damnit, Phil!"_

_Clint stared at Phil. They only ever used their first names when they were alone, which they weren't. Fury gave them both a look, but let it slide._

_It wasn't until after they'd left the debriefing with Fury that Clint realized what had happened._

**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

_Clint sat next to the hospital bed and looked at Natasha's pale face as she slept. He was known for never missing, and he hadn't. He just wasn't quick enough. The mark had gotten a shot off, hitting Natasha in the left shoulder. It wasn't bad, and she had told him not to worry about it, but he couldn't help it. She was hurt because of him._

"_I'm sorry," he whispered._

**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

_Clint stood in the open hatch of the quinjet and fired his explosive arrow at the Helicarrier. He knew what would happen when it hit, but there wasn't anything he could do to stop it. He was a prisoner in his own head; witnessing every action without consciously making the decision to perform that action. _

_He knew who was on the flying ship, and yet he was unable to fight back hard enough to keep from hurting any of them. _

_In the distance, he could hear alarms going off._

**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

Clint startled awake when he heard the alarms going off in the room below. He turned over and crawled back to the vent screen just as the medical team came running into the room. He watched in shock as the doctors and nurses fought to start Coulson's heart again.

It took them shocking his heart three times for it to start beating again. Clint sighed in relief.

"Barton, get down here!"

Clint looked back into the room to see Nick Fury standing at the foot of the bed looking up at him. So, he pushed the screen up and dropped to the floor next to the bed.

"Barton, can you tell me what you're doing?"

Clint glared at Fury, suddenly overcome by anger.

"Can you tell me what the hell you were thinking? You told them he was dead. Natasha told me he was dead! What the fuck?"

He was gasping for air by the time he was done, and was leaning heavily against the wall behind him.

"Are you done, Agent?"

Clint nodded.

"Good. Now sit down before you fall down."

Clint did as he was told, but again glared up at Fury.

"What you just saw, that's the reason. I didn't lie when I told them he'd died. He had, but they were able to resuscitate him on the way here. It's been touch and go as you just saw. We didn't know if he'd make it, so I chose to not say anything."

Clint gaped at him. "So, would you have said anything if… when he survives? Or were you just going to let us think he was gone?"

Fury sighed. "I was going to let him decide what he wanted to do."

"You were…. What?" Clint deflated.

"It's the least he deserves for what he did."

Clint didn't know what to say, so he just nodded.

Fury got up to leave, but stopped short of the door and turned back to Clint.

"You look like shit, Barton. Get some rest. He's not out of the woods yet, and he could be here for a while. I'll tell Romanoff I found you."

"Yeah… thanks," Clint said as he pulled the chair closer to the bed.

Five minutes later, Natasha came bursting into the room, and stopped dead in her tracks.

"Of all the…"

Clint grabbed her arms and turned her toward him.

"Nat, calm down. Yes, he's alive, but only barely. Yes, I am beyond pissed at Fury for lying to us, but can we just drop it. I'm too tired to deal with this right now."

She stared at him; uncertain for a moment, but then she dropped her eyes to the ground and nodded.

"Fine, but this isn't over. Can you believe he told me not to tell anyone else about what I see in here?"

Clint dropped his arms and moved back over to the chair. With a smirk he said, "Yes I can."

Natasha walked to the other side of the bed and pulled up another chair. They both sat and watched Coulson's chest rise and fall as the machine breathed for him. They were silent for a while before Clint spoke.

"This is all my fault. If I hadn't…"

"Damnit, Clint! Will you stop that?"

"I planned everything. I'm the one who shut down the engines. I'm the one who…"

While he was talking, Natasha had gotten up and was kneeling in front of him. He hadn't even noticed.

"You're an idiot, Barton! How many times do I have to tell you that it was Loki who did all that? If it's anyone's fault, it's his."

After several more minutes of silence, Clint spoke again.

"I was up there," he pointed to the vent, "I must have fallen asleep. I dreamed about Caracas and Manila, and the Helicarrier. No matter how good I am, I keep fucking up."

Natasha grabbed his hands to get his attention, and then held them as she started talking.

"Fuck, Clint! Shit happens. Do you think I haven't screwed up on missions; that Phil hasn't screwed up on missions? Caracas and Manila, those were two missions out of what…? No one's perfect. You need to stop carrying everything and everyone on your shoulders."

Clint shook his head but didn't speak. Natasha slapped him.

"Hey! What was that for?"

"To snap you out of this spiral you've got yourself going in. It's not good for you, and it's definitely not good for him. So, get over yourself and if you're so set on worrying about other people, worry about him."

Clint smiled, for what seemed like the first time in days.

Natasha grinned back. "We good, then?"

"Yeah… we're good. Just don't slap me again. That hurt." He rubbed his cheek.

"You keep that in mind the next time you start feeling sorry for yourself."

She stood and walked back to her chair on the other side of the bed. They sat there in companionable silence until they both fell asleep.

**AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA**

It was another week before they were able to take Coulson off of the ventilator and another week before he began to show signs of waking up.

The rest of the Avengers hadn't been happy when they found out the truth, and they all insisted on being there when Coulson woke up.

When he finally did, the first thing he did when he was able was to turn to Clint and motion for him to come closer. Clint leaned down toward him.

"This isn't… your fault. So… stop feeling sorry… for yourself."

Clint laughed, startling just about everyone else in the room. When he noticed their expressions, he turned to Natasha and said, "I think he heard every word we said that first night in here." He then turned back to Phil and said, "I know, it just took me a while to figure it out."

"Excuse me, but we're a bit in the dark here. What just happened?" Tony questioned.

Natasha rolled her eyes but then said, "He got his ass handed to him by a man who just woke up from a coma."

"Oh, well… of course he did. This is Agent we're talking about."

The room was suddenly very quiet, and then everyone erupted in laughter. Clint turned back to Phil, noticing he'd fallen back to sleep, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. He joined in the laughter, feeling better than he had in a long time.


End file.
